Տʟıƿĸɴօт
Ƥreface;
Ƭhere's been four months between when I buried my sister in a pale satin dress, and now. It's my fault she's dead, too. That's the worst part.
I could have taken the wheel from her, but Jaxon had driven me home, and then she crashed into a downed power line. Hattie burned to death.
At night, I lie awake, too consumed by thoughts to care that my stomach was about to digest itself. Nothing mattered anymore. Hattie was my solid rock, my best friend and my role model.
When I was a kid, she scooped me up in her arms and kissed my scraped knees. I wish so badly that I could do that for her, but there wasn't anything left of Hattie to kiss.
The wreckage that her car left was so bad that they had to haul it away with a crane. My sister crashed head on into the pole electrical wires are on, and then the wires snapped down and lit her car on fire.
My heart aches on every waking moment. I am waiting for Hattie to walk in through my door, like she did every day, and wake me up for school. I need her.
I am alone. I am afraid. And I am utterly, and entirely lost.
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